“For me it was pure disaster within thirty strides. No sooner had I emerged from the wooded area back onto the well-lit grounds of Pettengill than my left foot struck something beneath the snow and I went sprawling onto my hands and knees. I screamed. And while I fell, somehow I had enough time for the flashing thought that Saskia wouldn’t have tripped, wouldn’t have fallen. She wouldn’t have been out alone at night either. I had lost my right mitten; my fingers were bare and icy, clutching snow.... There was a dull roaring in my ears—my own inner panic. Frantically I began to clamber to my feet. And then a pair of arms grabbed me at the waist and assisted me the rest of the way upright. Worried eyes peered down. “Frances? Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you, back in the woods. It’s the middle of the night! What are you doing out here?” I blinked, astonished at being towered over, held, and yet apparently unthreatened. After a second or two the face and voice and words all came together in familiarity and began to make sense.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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